


The Calm Before The Storm.

by CescaLR



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: (kinda sorry tho), F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grundy Warning, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Sorry Not Sorry, WIP, because I can't write anything sans angst apparently, non-ace jughead, once the ball starts rolling properly., sorry - Freeform, starts out pretty gen but we'll see how this devolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:04:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Things in Riverdale tend not to slow down - not since that Summer, not since Jason was shot by a gun held by his own Father - and honestly they just want a break.There's a lot of pretending going on, these days. Let's see if that can be fixed.





	1. There's A Lot Of Pretending Going On, These Days.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyxxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxxie/gifts), [angeburger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeburger/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Moon Without a Tide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512875) by [angeburger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeburger/pseuds/angeburger), [Lyxxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxxie/pseuds/Lyxxie). 



> Yes, I am making this a gift. I don't have to, but I will, since I would probably have avoided writing for Riverdale out of a fear of OOC-ness from the characters if you hadn't given me the motivation and the inspiration, so thank you. 
> 
> Fic notes at the bottom.

_The world revolves around Archie Andrews._

At least, this little slice of the world - this small, isolated suburban haven, this secluded not-quite urban settlement on the river's edge - the  _town with pep!_ and a sign stuck permanently in the sixties. 

_This little, isolated part of the world, revolves around Archie Andrews._

At least, that's what it's always seemed like to Jughead. Perhaps it's since he's known him for so long - Jughead never could imagine the life he remembers sans the redhead; remove the music loving fifteen year old boy, and half, no more -  _no less_  than half of Jughead's life disappears. Remove Betty - the blond girl next door, with so much pressure to be perfect it's painful, he knows - and the remainder that isn't spent on the Southside, with his own small, dysfunctional family goes along with it. 

Jughead's good with words - always has been, always will be - heart and soul poured out into pages and pages of content that no-one will read because it's practice, because he doesn't want them to, because when he writes, sometimes, it's to personal to give away, to not keep close by his side - in the depths of his computer's rubbish bin, yes, but he knows it's there, was there and that's what matters. 

But there are some words that Jughead just -  _isn't_ good with.

_Oh_ , he can mince his words with the best of them, certainly. Can spit out cutting barbs with a kind of acerbic wit that sometimes makes Archie frown (even if his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly, even if his lips twitch because Archie's sense of humour aligns more with Jughead's than the football jocks he hangs around with - hung around with after and during  _that_ Summer-), can talk circles around even the supposedly intelligent inhabitants of Riverdale - but the spoken word, when it comes to feelings, somehow never ceases to fail him; always coming out the wrong ways with garbled meanings even if he'd written it down, thought it out,  _learnt_ his words beforehand. 

So when Archie, these days, late at night, asks him questions about him and Betty, Archie and Veronica,  _Jughead and himself,_ (Archie's self; to clarify) - Jughead claims sleep when he doesn't know what to say, does but not how to say it properly.

Their peace didn't last long - Jughead and Betty, Romeo and Juliet and all the Fate that that will cause, Jughead and Archie, two lost boys with a confused  _friendship_ and so, so guilty. Hell, even Jughead and Veronica - the new girl, who has eyes on all of them and pretends not to (while they all pretend not to either). 

Because his dad is convicted, when he's innocent  _ ~~(he has to be)~~_  of murder but not of cleaning up the body, covering up the kill - the murder of a son by his father.

And he trashes the trailer, tries not to break. Tidies it up again - probably cleaner than it's been since his mother left and took Jellybean with her - and things don't slow down, don't  _stop._

It halts for him - after  _it_ happens. (but not for Archie - he finds out the next afternoon, holds his friend for a moment while he tries not to break either and pretends not to see the anger, the hunger for vengeance lurking behind his dark eyes -) 

When he puts on the jacket, he feels a strange sort of  _something -_ it gives him a confidence he doesn't have, somehow, makes him stand straighter and not think too long on the fact that he's not wearing his hat. 

_They look after their own,_  Jughead thinks. He's gonna need proof of that. 

_"Juggy?"_ He hears - turns, sees Betty standing there, and he pretends to himself not to understand her expression but still -  he freezes. 

_(It's less of a halt, in truth. More of a crash and burn.)_

* * *

**_There's a lot of pretending going on, these days._ **

* * *

Archie gasps as he wakes, surges up into a standing position from his perch on the plastic chair they'd dragged in from the waiting room. 

_Family only, they'd said - and Archie rarely swears (not counting recently - he's a different person recently) but 'fuck that' was his response as he led the other three teens into Fred's room, because - in truth - Archie couldn't sit there alone. Couldn't watch his father breathe, heart beating in tune with the monitor and not think up all the possibilities in which things could have gone **better** because Archie'd  **been** better-_

_And Betty is family, where it counts. So is Jughead, and Veronica - but in a different way._

_(Archie resolutely doesn't think on how they're in the same category - because his life is complicated enough, and he doesn't want to think on it.)_

"Woah." Betty murmurs, and Veronica places a hand on his arm, guides him back to seating. "What was that about, pal?" Jughead asks, voice quiet; none of them wanted to waken Fred. 

_Nothing,_ Archie thinks.  _Nothing at all._

"Bad dream," He says instead - because the nothing he'd seen scared him more. "Don't remember."

Veronica's hand is a calming weight - for a moment. After that, it just reminds him of how  _well_ today  _should_ have gone, but some not-Southside Serpent, balaclava-wearing  _asshole **ruined it.**_

Archie should have known better - he should. Things haven't been going well for him lately. Why should they now? 

_Nothing, nothing, nothing. They'll all end up with nothing._

Archie searches for a distraction glances at Jughead's jacket, leather and  _different,_ and Archie says "Jug..." because he doesn't know what to say, and his eyes linger. 

Veronica follows his gaze and her lips purse, slightly - Betty  ~~(re)~~ gains a look of bewildered hurt, worry and confusion. 

"I couldn't exactly say no." Jughead says drily - but that's not it, and they all know that. Jughead's crown-hat is firmly on his head, in it's rightful place, but the jacket's still on his back, too. Across his shoulders and down his arms, surrounding his torso in some form of mock armour.  _I didn't exactly want to,_ is what Archie hears - but Archie doesn't really trust his ears, these days - doesn't trust his own judgement. Not really. 

_They're fifteen-year-olds, stuck in a life not their choosing. His dad is in a medically aided, gunshot-wound induced coma, and Archie doesn't know what to **do.**_

(He wants  **revenge.** But he doesn't say that, let alone think it for too long. He isn't certain how much he wants to go down that path, not yet - it's too soon.) 

"And your dad was one." Veronica says, softly - she'd get this more than Archie or even Betty would, he thinks. Dads who make massive mistakes with their children, who hurt the lives of the ones they claim to love. In many more (criminal) ways than one. 

It's silent, as Jug nods once; a small, solemn thing - but Archie catches it, they all do - and so, it's silent. 

if hospitals were a place you'd find crickets, you'd hear them in this silence. As it is, Archie can hear the faintest chirping of birds from outside the window, the hustle and bustle of the hospital from through the door - but here, it feels quiet. Isolated. A bit of time that is solely  _theirs._

Archie tends not to think on that much. That spending quiet moments with Veronica and Betty and Jughead are some of the better times he has, these days. 

"Visiting hours will be over soon," He says, to break the silence. He pauses, then says, "Anybody wanna come over?" Because he can't be in that house alone. 

"I still have the keys." Both Betty and Jughead say, and that's a relief that causes him to laugh, slightly - the in tandem reply along with the fact that he won't have to find his own, or the spare set they hide outside somewhere (or god forbid he ask the front desk, because then they might remember that he's fifteen and his current legal guardian is in a coma -) 

Veronica laughs too - Jughead's smile is strained, a bit, compared to the girls' ones. Archie's not sure if he's the only one that sees it, or if it's just a figment of his imagination, so (not that he would've even if he was certain) he doesn't say anything. 

Veronica links her arm with his, and when they leave they all pretend that Jughead doesn't deliberately walk next to Archie (with more than enough distance for both their personal spaces) and Betty doesn't purposely walk beside Veronica (arm in arm). 

Archie breathes, deep, in and out, and ignores the glance he gets from Jughead for that. 

* * *

When they get to the house, it's quiet. Archie steps foot in his home, and thinks on how his Dad would greet him if he weren't halfway across town, lying sleeping in a state he can't wake up from easily. 

"What do you want to do?" Jug asks, doesn't discard his jacket. Archie has a feeling he'll be living in his dad's trailer and not at the foster family's place - he has a feeling no-one on the Southside will say anything to anyone about  _that_  little semi-illegality. 

Betty  _does_  put her coat up on the rack, as does Veronica. It's not as meaningful - or really, it doesn't have any meaning, compared to Jughead doing the same. 

They stand there for a moment - unsure. Archie in his blue and gold, Jughead in his black and green, the girls standing there, in the middle - like a divide, almost, but not quite. 

Like a connection, perhaps. Archie banishes the thought before it fully forms. 

"We'll go pick out a movie." Veronica says, offers, drags Betty off into the living room. 

_It doesn't look bad on you,_ he thinks and says; "It's not a bad jacket." 

Jughead relaxes, ever so slightly. "Kind of stiff," He responds. "I'll have to wear it in." 

Archie nods. 

* * *

The boys are still in the hall, voices muffled enough not to understand, but not quite at the level of being inaudible. 

Veronica wants to let them talk it out. They haven't had a chance to, not really - and she knows it goes deeper than the obvious Southside Serpent membership card in the form of a dark leather jacket, but Veronica doesn't actually know how  _far_ down it goes, how long it's been since they've talked things through like functional human beings. 

Betty seems to know what she's thinking. "Something happened over Summer," She says. Veronica knows what happened she helped find out - their whole little group of four does, and thanks to Cheryl and Reggie the school and probably the whole fucking town do as well, now - "Archie started to pull away. Slowly. I wasn't around, really - but me and Juggy kept in touch. Archie even talked to me, sometimes, though it wasn't our usual talks." She pauses, flicks through a few movies and discards them. "They didn't communicate at all." 

Veronica frowned. "Why?" Betty rolls her head back, blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Betty seems to contemplate what she's going to tell Veronica, so she waits patiently, discards  _transformers_ and some sports movie. 

"..." Betty opens her mouth, but doesn't say anything - she seems at a loss for the words she needs to tell Veronica; like she wants to explain but can't quite work out how. 

Betty grabs a box set - not a movie, but a TV show, and nods to herself, places it on the coffee table and sinks into the couch cushions. She pats the seat beside her and Veronica drops down.

"Grundy abused him." She says, finally. Veronica knows this, but it still hurts to hear - still gives her this sick feeling in her stomach and the urge to do  _something._

"Even if he doesn't, and probably won't ever think the same - but she did." Betty bores her eyes into Veronica's - voice barely above a whisper. "And she caused that distance. She didn't want him close to other people, so she probably -  _definitely_  manipulated him into pulling away from everyone." 

Veronica nods, slow. 

"But the thing is, he did it  _slowly."_ Betty emphasised. "We talked normally at the beginning, he came over often and hung out with us until my family dragged me on holiday. He called, still, and answered when I did, you know? we texted. But after I left, a few weeks later, maybe - Jughead asked if I'd heard from Archie lately." 

Veronica frowned. She wasn't - no, she was sure, she was  _certain_ that she didn't like where this was going. 

"I had." She breathed. "Because we'd had a short, maybe five minute conversation the night before. So I said yes, and Jughead didn't reply for a few - hours, because you know how Jughead is."

Veronica couldn't help but nod, a little - smile slightly, because she did know how Jughead was... even if she'd found out under less than brilliant circumstances. 

Betty inclined her head. "Well, when he did, he asked me if I thought that Archie might be avoiding him, in his halting, 'I don't really want to ask this but feelings are getting in the way', sort of way." 

Veronica blinked. "So... Archie was avoiding him?" "Yeah." Betty replies. "And I still don't get why. Because Grundy was fine with him talking to me, it seems, even if the only person in the world who didn't know I liked Archie was, well,  _Archie,_ she didn't mind him talking to me."

Veronica paused. "... Okay, that is odd." Betty nodded. "I looked up the behaviours of the abusers in this sort of relationship," She said, "and it just doesn't  _add up._ "

Betty looked... frustrated. Veronica almost wanted to brush the hair out of her eyes, but she just squeezed her hand instead. Betty sighed, squeezed back, and the boys came in.

"What're we watching?" Archie says, and Veronica leans over to the table. "I don't know." She replies, grabs the box set and frowns at it. 

She cocks her head, sighs, and looks over to Betty. "I've never watched this." She says. "Some British show, right?" 

"Well you're uneducated." Jughead notes, grabs the box set and crouches down, starts setting up the DVD player. 

"Oi," She responds, with no real heat in it. "I'll have you know I know many of the things behind pop culture references. I wouldn't make them myself if I didn't."

"Yes," Jughead agrees, "And now you'll know more." 

Archie sits next to her on the couch. She smiles at him as he places an arm around her shoulder.

Jughead stands, brushes himself off unnecessarily, and sits on the armchair. 

The opening theme plays, and they settle in for some mindless fun. 

* * *

" _No,_ that is  _blasphemy._ " Veronica throws a bit of popcorn (gotten partway through the marathon) at Jughead for his response. 

"Morrison's the  _best,"_ Betty insists. "Really." 

"Morrison? Really?" Jughead shakes his head. " _Why?"_

Betty shrugs. "I like the way the books are written, I like the content, what's more to say?"

Jughead groans. " _Why."_

"Stop mocking my taste in books, Juggy, unless you want me to mock yours." Betty teases, flicks some of Veronica's popcorn at him and misses. 

"Ugh." He grumbles, but relents. 

Veronica jumps in on the discussion. "Okay, well, my favourite book is  _Breakfast at Tiffany's,_ so say what you will about that." 

"Why am I friends with you all?" Jughead asks rhetorically. "Gah." 

Archie grins at them, lets them talk. It's a welcome distraction from his own thoughts, from what he overheard the girls talking about - from everything, really. 

"Not everybody can like Noir Mysteries, Jughead." Veronica says. 

Jughead sighs, grabs the remote and presses play. The girls snicker, slightly, and Jughead rolls his eyes. 

_This,_ Archie thinks, sneaks some of Veronica's popcorn and laughs as she swats at his hand,  _is good. This little, happy bubble of four - this is what he wants to protect. He doesn't want them to be changed from what's happened - but they have, so he just wants to keep them all, himself included, able to sit around watching British TV shows and laughing about each other's favourite things._

_He doesn't want them to lose this, because he's not sure what they'd have left if they did._

* * *

**_There's a certain lack of surety in everything they do, these days._ **

* * *

 

 


	2. The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same. Supposedly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk, a talk, a midnight meeting, and skipping school.
> 
> You know. The usual things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 in 1? Hell yes.

When Betty wakes the next morning, she’s alone.

She expected this, of course. Jughead has to go all the way across town to go to school, now – she only has to walk a short ways to get to hers.

Betty breathes, for a moment. Her sister is in her room, her Mom in hers and her Dad’s on the couch.

Not everything’s fixed, but it’s getting there – at least in terms of her family structure.

Betty swings her legs out of bed, and gets up. She gets ready in her normal way, then goes downstairs, opens the top left cupboard in the kitchen and shoves aside a jar or two and grabs her medication, takes the prescribed dosage and puts it back.

(Hides it, she thinks. Her dad chose where it goes.)

Betty makes some toast and Polly enters the room, fully dressed. She lowers herself onto a stool and Betty hands over the cereal, a bowl and the milk.

“You gonna be okay if I go see Archie?” Betty asks.

“Of course,” Polly says. “He needs his friends right now, Betty. I’ll be fine.”

Betty smiles in thanks and leaves the house, toast finished before she’s out the door.

The bright sunshine hits her as she exits, the sky she sees mostly cloudless.

It’s at odds with the mood pervading the town’s streets, but she smiles up regardless. Hopes for a good day.

Betty steps down from the porch and walks down the street.

Archie opens the door when she knocks, hair damp from a recent shower.

“Betty.” He greets. “Hey.”

Veronica calls out a greeting from the staircase, and Betty vehemently _doesn’t_ wonder why she can’t just come to the door.

“Am I early?” Betty asks, and Archie shakes his head, immediate.

“No, we just woke up late.” He says.

 _Got distracted,_ he doesn’t – but Betty can read between the lines.

She smiles at him, genuine – because she liked him, she did, but she doesn’t now. Not in the way he seems to still worry about.

Archie smiles back, and Veronica appears at his side.

“Well then,” she smiles. “Shall we?”

She links arms with both of them, strides down the path at the same pace as they do just walking.

Betty smiles to herself at that, and the walk to school is companionable silence.

It feels nice. Like they’re just three school friends, on a normal day. Not like the ridiculousness their lives have been up ‘til now.

Veronica smiles as well, shares a glance with her, and Betty feels almost happy.

_She just wishes Jughead was here with them._

* * *

He _should_ be in school – Jughead knows this. He also knows he’s wearing a Southside Serpent jacket, and knows that therefore nobody will call him out on it.

The Whyte Wyrm stared down at him, Hot Dog chained up outside – on lookout, probably, likely trained to bark at outsiders who came near without a Serpent or two leading them. 

But Jughead wasn’t an outsider. He never had been, considering his dad’s occupation.

“Hey boy.” He said, crouching in front of the dog, who simply panted.

Jughead petted his head for a moment before standing up and turning around.

“Careful there.” A voice was saying, then they saw his face and shrugged. “Oh, right – you’re FP’s boy.”

It’s not like Jughead had never been to the Whyte Wyrm before all this started – people knew him here because of his dad, because of the family he’d been born into.

“Jughead's my name, " He responds. “And FP’s my dad, yeah.”

The girl in front of him was probably mid-twenties, by the looks of her; piercings everywhere piercings can go, a short dip-dyed green bob and the signature Southside Serpent jacket are the first things he notes about her.

“Nice hat.” She grins. “Lemme show you ‘round, kid.”

“I’ve been here before.” Jughead says on reflex. He’s not a kid, not really – but he knows better than to correct that.

“Yeah, but not as a Serpent.” She looks him over. “Jacket fit good?” She asks. “Anywhere too tight, too baggy? Fit easy over those fifteen layers?” She jokes and he shrugs. She’s not wrong, he does wear a lot of layers.

“The fit is good.” He allows. “Bit stiff, but it’s new. I’ll wear it in.”

“Good lad.” She nods. “Wear it proud, wear it about. You’re one of us – always have been, and it’s not as bad a thing as Northsiders like to say.”

“Considering the Northside has the Blossoms, they can’t really talk.” Jughead replies, follows this lady into the bar and recognises the inside as easily as he should, considering how often his dad dragged them here when Jughead was young and his mom was around, before and after Jellybean was born.

She laughs, nods to the bartender who nods back and goes into the back – there’s a kitchenette behind there, nothing fancy, but a place to make and store food if you have nowhere of your own to do so. Jughead knows what that’s like.

The woman hops the bar and grabs two glasses.

“Now,” She nodded to him, “You’re sixteen, yeah?”

Jughead nods. “Well then,” She winks. “Since this is home, what’s a little drink?”

He pauses, considers.

“Nothing, I guess.” He replies. There’s a certain way you have to act as a serpent, and he’s seen that way, observed it, since he was young.

Jughead can do this.

“So,” She announces, “You’re probably wondering whose callin’ the shots since the Boss’s in lockup, right?”

Jughead notes her slurred dialect – similar to a lot of the kids in his new school – and answers her question.

“That did cross my mind,” He admits. “Did he – what, have a second in command or something?”

“Not somethin’ so fancy,” She grunts as she shoves her arm into the back of a low cupboard. “S’more like… ‘if somethin’ happens, then who ever’s decent enough at leadin’ gets a shot at doin’ so for the whole gang.”

Jughead nods, the lady goes ‘Aha!’ and produces a bottle of definitely alcoholic cider. “Somethin’ sorta-light for you, eh? Newbie Serpent and all, gotta go a little easy – ‘specially since you’re the Boss’ son.”

She pours into his glass (which is plastic, he realises) a bit more than most would before filling hers to the brim.

“Cheers.” She says, drains a larger mouthful than most would by knocking it back. Jughead’s more careful, tests it and tastes it, sees what he thinks.

She plops the cup back onto the bar, leans forward onto her forearms.

“Where is everyone?” He asks – the bar is suspiciously empty, but he hadn’t said anything yet because he wanted to see if she’d bring it up first.

Her tongue presses down on her bottom lip as she frowns in consideration – and yep, she’s also pierced that, too.

“S’pose you’ve a right to know as much as the rest of us.” She relents. “Since ol’ Blossom’s little illegality got revealed, we’re havin’ to put the weed trade down lower than before – cut out most of it, keep it hidden and discrete, raise prices, yada yada, ‘cept most of the Serpents ain’t that smart – so it’s takin’ longer than it would if your dad was about.”

Jughead exhaled, slowly into his drink, took a sip and avoided coughing – delayed having to respond.

Jughead’s not sure if his dad’s all that smart either, but he doesn’t say this out loud.

“Do the Serpents get money through other means?” He asks abruptly.

“Well, we would’ve, if that Andrews construction job didn’t fall through ‘cause’a some political shit.” She grumbled, and Jughead felt a sharp jolt from the reminder.

“But yeah, we used to – ‘fore ol’ Cliff revealed his true colours by shootin’ his own son.” She frowned, obviously very deeply disturbed. “We started checkin’ deeper than we used to after that, y’see, since we don’t really want as shitty a rep as we got – most of us, anyway.” She corrects, looks up at him.

She sighs, takes his hand – her dark skin a stark contrast to his alabaster. “Sorry you got caught up in all this mess, Jones.” She muttered, squeezing his hand. “Not really the life for a kid, bein’ a Serpent.”

She stood up, straighter. “S’why you should be in school with the rest of the baby snakes.” She chuckles. “But I won’t tell a soul, cross my heart.”

“Thanks,” Jughead says, and he still doesn’t know what to call her.

She takes another swig as he takes a drink. It’s not as hard as he’d thought drinking alcohol to be – but maybe that’s just because it’s, what did she call it? A cider.

The woman wipes her mouth and says, “By the way, call me Lin.”

“Alright, Lin.” He replies.

She nods to him, smirks. “I’m gonna take you on that tour of the Serpents’ dens now, since you might as well do somethin’ if you ain’t at school.”

Lin hops the bar again, drains the last of her cup. “Either finish that or leave it,” She says. “Y’are still underage, after all.”

Jughead finishes his current sip and puts it down, stands.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “I’ll train you yet, Jughead.”

He’s not going to bet on that, but he follows her out anyway.

* * *

It’s dark out, Veronica sees – narrowed eyes scanning the view from her window.

Yesterday was the day Archie’s dad got _shot._ The night previous was the night Jughead cemented his place in the Serpents. The night Cheryl set her home ablaze.

Things aren’t getting easier, Veronica thinks. They thought they would, after figuring out Jason’s killer, but they’re just getting more _complicated._

Not to mention the complications in all their relationships. The tenseness still lingering from the summer, and all that entails. What Betty’s dad has done, has kept from his family. What _Jughead’s_ done, in joining the Serpents. What She and Archie and Jughead and Betty have done in pairing off – and she doesn’t know why that’s a factor, not yet, but Veronica knows that if she can _just figure out that summer,_ then maybe she can understand what’s really up with the four of them.

Not to mention her Father’s case. God, she still wants to be that kid who can call him Daddy and not know what his callousness causes.

Cheryl called her father Daddy. Is it tradition in criminal families to never move on from those monikers?

Maybe it’s a kind of way to stay naïve, Veronica thinks. Using the same words that you used for them as a child, viewing them with that same innocence even if your older now, smarter – but maybe not wiser.

Veronica closes the curtains, sighs to herself. She knows so little in comparison to everyone else about Riverdale, about the people here. About tensions and rivalries and accepted and non-accepted things. About Archie, and who he was versus who he is now, about Jughead and his family and what Betty was like as a child, who Polly was before Jason, before being a soon-to-be mother.

She knows everyone post-Jason, post _that_ Summer. Veronica is almost jealous that she never got to know who they were prior to all this.

Her mom isn’t home – probably working overtime, considering how close her dad’s case is coming to it’s closing point and how little the woman actually wants to think about it (in comparison to what she says).

Veronica looks to her laptop, bites her lip (something she never does in public – it’s a sign of nervousness and, for reasons she gets now, she’d been trained out of showing those).

Before she can think twice about it, Veronica packs up her laptop into its bag, her phone and purse in the zip-able side pockets, and (still dressed – it’s not late enough for her to have gotten ready for bed yet) grabs her cloak, puts it on and pulls up the hood.

She’s out the window of the hall and down the fire escape in minutes, on the ground in seconds, down the street faster than she normally walks, striding with a purpose.

She needs to see a guy about a thing. Veronica mentally giggles to herself at the reference, before composing herself and walking faster.

She reaches the house down the street from her destination, and – glancing around with narrowed, careful eyes – vaults the fence into the backyard as quietly as possible. Veronica does this for the rest of the houses until she reaches her destination. Upon entering the yard, she looks up at the windows and frowns.

Sighing, she gets out her phone.

_Which is your window? And by the way I’m in your backyard._

She probably should have opened with that, but Veronica doesn’t play by many rules (an inherited trait, but one used for good) and proper breaking-in etiquette doesn’t even exist, so there aren’t any rules to play by in the first place.

**_What_ **

Veronica sighs.

_Keller, I’m in your yard. Look outside._

Veronica sees the shifting of curtains, and she waves up at that window.

_Thnx._

She moves over to the tree close-by the house, kicks off her heels and starts to climb.

Once she’s in the bough of the tree, she snaps off a twig and flicks it at the window, hitting squarely on her target.

Said window opens, and she grins at Kevin.

“ _What are you doing?”_ Kevin hisses

 _“Breaking in to interrogate you.”_ She responds _“Now open the windows wide and step back.”_

Kevin huffs out a long-suffering breath, but does as asked. Veronica pauses, gets as close to the edge as she dares and jumps.

Her roll isn’t executed perfectly, but she manages to do one, and lies on her back for a moment.

“Veronica Lodge, the most stylish spy extraordinaire, what the _heck_ are you _doing here?”_

Veronica sits up, brushes herself down and perches on his desk after surveying his room for a moment.

“I’m curious.” She said. “About Riverdale, about the people I know and don’t know here. About the ‘Summer of Dread’ and what people were like Pre-Jason’s Death. This place may be _In Cold Blood_ but I still want to know more about it than I already do.”

“Well, Miss _Breakfast at Tiffany’s,_ why are you asking _me?_ The most I can tell you are the closeted gay or bi guys at school – I’m not exactly _close_ with your friends.”

“ _Our_ friends, Kevin.” Veronica corrects.

“But I’m not part of the core four.” He says – now seated on his bed, resigned to her being there. “I do know some stuff, sure, but not as much as you want to. Why not ask them yourself, Lodge?” Kevin looks at her curiously. “I mean, aside from that, I’m just as curious about them as you are. Mostly because I’m still stuck on whether Archie’s 100% straight or not, but that’s besides the point.”

Veronica tucked that away for later – she’d ask him why he wondered that in due time – and thought, for a moment.

“I guess it’s because that would cement the fact that I’m not from around here.” She says. “That I’m part of a friend group that all know each other far better than I know them or they know me. What was I like before Dad got arrested? What was Jughead like when his whole family was around? What was Polly like before Jason? What was Betty like as a kid? What was Archie like before –”

She paused. “Before whatever happened this last summer?”

“I don’t think that matters as much as you think it does, Ronnie.” Kevin says – softer than before.

“It does.” Veronica says. “Because the people who you all were before all of this, led to the people that you are now – led to Jughead being – Jughead, to Betty being – Betty, to Archie and his love for music versus what I’m told; his old love for sports.” Veronica sighed.

“I just… I don’t know.” She looked over to Kevin, who only looked sympathetic.

“The only way you can get to know them is by asking _them,_ Veronica.” Kevin says. “I’m much the same person I’ve always been – but you are right, something has changed those three. I will say this,” Kevin adds, before pausing – seemingly finding the words.

“… they used to be closer.” He says, slowly. “I couldn’t go to Pop’s without seeing the three of them at the table, in a variety of arrangements. Betty next to Archie, Archie next to Jughead, Jughead across from Betty, Betty next to Jughead – it was…” He trailed off, frowning. “It was _weird,_ seeing Betty and Archie and not _BettyandJugheadandArchie_ , because that’s how it’s been since we were kids. Even Cheryl commented in… Cheryl’s way, and that just goes to show how _odd_ it was to see Jughead gone, or Archie gone – even if Betty was constant, before and after her holiday.”

Veronica cocked her head.

“Betty thought it was weird too.” She said finally. “Because Archie talked to her for the most part, and she hung out with Jughead, but after she left it was like Archie disappeared of the face of the earth when it came to Jughead. He called and texted Betty, but Jughead didn’t see hide nor hair of him until…” She frowned. “…I think after the dance when the three of us went – remember?”

Kevin grinned. “Oh, _that._ Anyone who took a picture of that had it as their wallpaper for ages; It was _awesome._ ”

She blinked at him.

“What?” Veronica managed. Kevin shrugged. “I just heard this,” He defended, “But there were serious _oh-tee-three_ vibes there, Lodge. For some people.”

Veronica didn’t usual feel flustered, but when polyamory with her friends was thrown in her face at an unexpected time – well, she thinks most people would get flustered.

“People do that?” She said, finally, after collecting herself.

Kevin’s grin remained firmly in place.

“Well, _yeah._ Why else would there be ‘best couple’ votes and polls in the Blue and Gold?”

“They have those?” Veronica asked, bewildered.

“They did.” Kevin sighed. “Betty took it out considering all the recent stuff – it didn’t seem appropriate to be voting on that sort of thing when people are dying left and right.”

Veronica leaned back, slightly. “Oh-kay…” She drew out. “Little bit in-real-life _Fangirl,_ but I can deal.”

She cocked her head.

“Why’d you wonder about Archie before, Keller?”

Kevin sat up properly, frowned at her.

“Well, I mean, most people have.” He mused. “Except the guy himself, of course.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “Even _Reggie’s_ wondered – I mean, _come on.”_

She blinked at Kevin. “Reggie?”

“The most unfortunately closeted bisexual I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” Kevin replied, “But you know him already. His favourite pastime ever since puberty hit – aside from being the worst jerk to women, I swear to god – is making jokes about your two friends and yours truly.”

Veronica frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well,” Kevin said. “It’s 2017. He’s not actually homophobic, thank the lord – just a massive douchebag. And heavily invested in his masculinity, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“How do you know?” Veronica asked.

Kevin blinked at her. “Moose, of course.”

“What?” She asked, and Kevin cocked his head. “Yeah, so you’ll probably need more of an explanation…” He mused. “Alright. Moose is very, very closeted. Also very gay. But that doesn’t work with his image, you see, so he’s a massive jerk and I’m pretty sure internally homophobic, which is a sad but true state of affairs.”

“Right.” Veronica says dubiously.

“Reggie cornered me and practically demanded I at least talk to Moose because it was getting on his nerves.”

“Oh.” She murmured, surprised. Kevin sighed. “In this town, it’s both backwards and forwards at the same time. You’re free as long as you aren’t too openly different, it seems, but I do well enough so it’s not as bad as some think. There’s just this sort of stigma here – not about being out and proud, more about the reaction. It was much less of one than I expected, really.”

Veronica cocked her head.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, if you shouted ‘I’m a lesbian’ – not that _you_ will, just an example – at the top of your lungs in the cafeteria tomorrow, the most you’ll get is a few whistles. It’s more of a non-reaction than a bad one, but there’s still this stigma since the town is so…” He paused, seemingly unable to find the right words.

“Stale, I suppose, when it comes to most everything else.”

“You mean the Book?”

“Yes, I mean that awful thing.” He sighed. “And the Blossoms being cocaine-trafficking drug lords, and businesses being inherited rather than handed over to someone with the right qualifications, and newspapers on printed pages rather than on a computer screen.”

Veronica nods, thoughtful. “Thanks.” She says. “For the insights.”

He smiled at her, nodded. “Now get out of my house, Lodge. I don’t want you confusing my dad.”

Veronica nods and leaves the way she came – a little more understanding about the town helping a lot more than Kevin would ever know, and she grins to herself.

(It’s only once she gets home that she realises they went off track multiple times and that thus, she didn’t get some of the answers to the questions she’d asked. _Sneaky,_ Veronica thinks approvingly, as she gets ready for bed.)

* * *

Archie shoots up into a seated position, sweat cooling on his skin and bedsheet a tangled mess.

Archie tries to calm his heartbeat, and breathes.

He’s not having fun with these nightmares.

Archie swings his legs out of bed, sees the time and relents to his friends freaking out about him being late to school.

 _Oh whatever,_ he thinks, grabs his phone and sends them each the same message. After he does this, Archie grabs a pair of sweatpants and puts them on, moves down the hall and opens the storage closet. He lugs the punching bag into not his room, but his dad’s and stands there for a moment, panting at the exertion.

“Alright.” He says to himself. _Tape._

Archie goes into his room and tapes up his hands, does a few pre-exercise stretches and then moves back into his dad’s room.

 _Right._ He thinks. _This is how you work out stress._

Archie does his usual – punches twice right, once left, twice left, once right; for even work on both swings and both arms. He doesn’t really think as he does it – that’s the _point –_ just breathes. In. Punch. Out. Punch.

And so on. It doesn’t stay that rhythm, of course not – doesn’t stay that _slow,_ but he keeps it steady, keeps himself calm.

 _Definitely_ doesn’t imagine this as the balaclava-wearing nutjob who _hurt his dad,_ because he’s not _supposed_ to do that.

Good guys – _golden boys –_ like himself don’t want vengeance, they want _justice._

_(Archie will tell himself this until he believes it, because if you tell yourself a lie enough it starts sounding like truth to your own ears.)_

He still pummels the bag like it did something to him personally, but that’s – well, that’s _sort of_ the point.

Not really. Archie lands his fist on the bag and keeps it there, breathes heavily and harshly and _doesn’t_ think about beating whoever-it-was up, thinks about him in handcuffs and stuck in prison for the rest of eternity.

( _But prison wouldn’t be forever, for whoever it was. Because Archie’s dad didn’t die, he’s practically off scot-free.)_

Archie sucks in a harsh breath, and then forces himself to count.

The silence rings loud in his ears as he tries to convince himself of _justice,_ and he can’t hear his own thoughts over his other ones.

Archie slams his fist, hard, against the bag – and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long it'll take me to get out more chapters, since I'm gonna be trying to get all my other stuff finished in the next few months, if I'm even capable of that lol.  
> Anyway, I hope you like the start of this???  
> It's kinda crappy but I like it enough to post so yeah. Here it is.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure what this is?? It's just to fill time between season 1 and 2 i think, but it's also probably not and might end up with a weird variant of OT4 that has not got... uh, barchie? I think it's barchie. We'll see. Likely won't have, uh, Jughead/Veronica (what is that called?) either. This is already turning out to be a fail OT4, whoops.
> 
> Go read 'A Moon Without Tide' by the two people whom this was gifted to. Please. You won't regret it... unless you don't like jarchie? In which case why are you here, lol. Srsly tho, go read. Much better planned out and written than this.


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